


Always

by luckylittlesparrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys In Love, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Divorce, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 09:56:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckylittlesparrow/pseuds/luckylittlesparrow
Summary: Just because they're divorced doesn't mean they aren't still in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first posted DeanCas fic. Crossposted from tumblr. (luckylittlesparrow there, too.)

Castiel stumbles to the door. It’s almost three in the morning, technically he should ignore whoever the hell it is. But something deep in his gut tells him it’s not whoever. Somehow he knows; it’s Dean. And though he wishes - with everything inside him - that he could ignore the knocking, even if it is Dean, he can’t. He just. Can’t.

“I woke you up.” Dean states. Like he’s genuinely surprised at a shirtless Castiel in nothing but flannel pajama bottoms. 

“I’m sure you’d wake anyone up, knocking at this hour.” Castiel grumbles. 

Dean’s shoulders slump. His careful grin falls. “Yeah,” he says, kicking his toe against Castiel’s worn welcome mat. It was a wedding gift, to the two of them, but when Dean had shown a severe lack of disinterest in it during their divorce, Castiel had found sentimental value in the thing, fraying at the edges and faded, just like their ten year marriage. He’d kept it. Because he couldn’t keep Dean, but he could keep something. The fact that it was a stupid welcome mat was beside the point. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.” Dean agrees.

“And yet.” 

“Do you ever think…” Dean pauses. Leans against the door frame, eyes trained on his boots. “Do you ever think maybe we made a mistake? By splitting up?”

Everyday, Castiel wants to tell him. But he can’t. Not when the only reason he signed the papers in the first place was because he knew it was what Dean wanted. “Do you?” He asks instead. 

Dean finally looks at him, green eyes guarded. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He says. 

“You are.” Castiel agrees. He’s tired. Physically, emotionally, mentally. He and Dean have been playing this game for almost fifteen years now. High school sweethearts who married on a whim - young and absolutely in love - then ten years went by before Dean began to question things. But it’s Dean, and Castiel loves him. He always has. So here he is, blinking at Dean against the yellow-ey glow of his porch light, aching to reach out and pull Dean in, but knowing he no longer has that right. “Are you drunk?” Castiel asks. He doesn’t want to, but he has to know. 

“No.” 

“Have you been fighting with Sam?”

“No.”

“Your mom? Dad?”

Dean shakes his head. “No fights, no alcohol. Just me.”

“So you’re here because-” It’s not fair of him, Castiel knows that, but like a plant needs carbon dioxide to live, he needs to hear Dean say it. 

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. He looks tired, too. “I’m here because I don’t want to be anywhere else.” He mutters. And that’s it. That’s all Castiel needs before he steps aside, opens the door to Dean, then closes it with a firm click once his ex-husband is inside.

“I work early.” Castiel says when they’re both standing there, avoiding one another’s eyes, but not able to fully do so.

“I can stay,” Dean offers, like he hadn’t been planning on doing so since he knocked on Cas’ door. “We can talk in the morning.”

“You came to talk?” 

Dean shrugs, looking around the apartment they shared up until six months ago. Up until Dean broke Castiel’s heart into a million-and-one pieces when he said he needed to ‘find himself’. How is it then, Castiel wonders, that Dean’s seemed to be searching for himself here, time and time again. “Not really.” Dean admits, then amends, “I mean, if I did, I don’t really know what to say.” 

“You don’t need to say anything.” Castiel assures him. Because Dean doesn’t. Castiel should have more walls up, be more cautious of being hurt again. But it’s Dean. It’s Dean, and there’s never been a time when Castiel hasn’t loved him, unconditionally.

Dean relaxes, looks relieved. They can talk tomorrow, if that’s really why Dean came, but for now, they can both slip into that easy space where they’ve always existed - Cas and Dean - where nothing could ever touch them. 

“You should get back to it then.” Dean says, and Castiel nods. Turns and heads down the hall, knowing Dean will follow. 

His room is dark, thankfully, and Castiel climbs back into his bed, settling into the cooled sheets, pulling his comforter up around his shoulders.

“Should I-” 

“No,” Castiel is quick to say, because if Dean is going to be here, Castiel wants him to be here. 

“It okay if I-”

“Yes.” 

Dean chuckles, reaching for the tongue of his belt. “Okay, then.” He’s nothing but a shadow against the dim light of the hall, a smudge of grey at the end of Castiel’s bed, but his movements are so familiar to Castiel, he would recognize them even if his eyes were closed. 

He’ll loosen his belt, never taking it all the way off, then his pants will fall around his ankles, and he’ll pull his henley over his head, dropping it all into a pile on the floor that will be gone by the time Castiel wakes up in the morning. 

Dean always was the neater of the two of them.

It’s almost too dark to see, but Castiel watches Dean’s every move nonetheless, forcing himself to breathe easy as Dean climbs onto his side of the bed - the side Castiel has never filled, even after all this time - and settles in facing Castiel. 

“Is this okay?” Dean murmurs. His voice barely carries over the oscillating of Castiel’s ceiling fan, but when his hand brushes Castiel’s under the covers, the touch is louder than everything else in the room. 

“Of course.” 

Dean sounds exhausted when he responds. “You’re too good to me, Cas.” But that had always been one of the problems, for as beautiful and talented as Dean Winchester was, he was always blind to his worth. His mother loved him fiercely, his father didn’t have much bad to say, and his younger brother practically worshiped the ground Dean walked on. Yet Dean never understood how anyone considered him enough. It was a major flaw in Dean, an unfortunate oversight in his psychiatric make up, but Castiel never tired of letting Dean know it wasn’t possible to be ‘too good to him’. 

“You know how I feel about that.” Castiel mutters into the dark. 

“Yeah.” Dean says, and his fingers are tight around Castiel’s, like he’s afraid of losing him. 

“Dean,” Castiel says, wiggling closer to the man he’s put all his efforts into for as long as he can remember. Would put all his efforts into time and time again. “I love you. You know that.” He says. 

Dean sighs, curls against Castiel’s chest. “I know,” he says. “I just can’t figure out why.” 

It’s a long time before Castiel is able to welcome sleep again. He spends the better part of the early morning holding Dean as close to him as two people can be, hoping some day, Dean will accept that he’s worth it all. 

“Because you’re you.” Castiel finally says, when the sun is tingeing the clouds a glowing golden color and the birds outside are singing. He’ll be late for work if he doesn’t get up soon, but being with Dean is more important than anything else in the world.

Always.


End file.
